Page 53 of Unforgivable

“I know.”

“So we’re good?” she asks.

“Yes, of course. We’re good. Thanks, Summer.”

“Good,” she says with what looks like genuine relief. Then she adds, “You know, I don’t think you need to worry about Bronwyn. For what it’s worth.”

“What do you mean?”

“I talked to her at the party. She said I was lucky to have you as a boss. Which I am.” She half smiles. “She said you were a really good person, and it was nice to be back with her extended family.”

“Oh really? She said that? Who’s the extended part? Did she say? Am I the extended part?” I gnaw on a cuticle. She frowns at me.

“Just kidding,” I say, even though I wasn’t. I make a mental note to discuss this with Katie at lunch.

“Anyway, she said it was nice to see how happy Charlie was.”

I have a headache. I press my fingers against my temple. “Was that before or after I kicked the pony?”

She gives me a sad smile. “You look tired. Can I get you anything?”

“No, thanks, Summer.” I tell her again that everything is fine and I’m sorry I even asked her to flirt with Jack. I’m embarrassed, I don’t know what’s wrong with me that makes me come up with these harebrained ideas. I don’t say that last part out loud. I just want her to go away, leave me to my tortured thoughts. I tell her I know she meant no harm, it’s completely my fault. Which it is, obviously.

I ask her to call the freight companies and get quotes for sending the exhibition to each venue on the tour because that will take hours and I desperately want to be left alone right now.

TWENTY-SIX

I meet Katie at a café on Occidental Avenue. We sit by the window, order cheese omelets.

“You look tired,” she says. “You okay?”

“Absolutely fine,” I say, filling our glasses with water from the pitcher. “You look great, by the way.” Which she does. She’s had her hair done in a bob, with a short fringe. “I love the new hair. It suits you.”

“Thanks!”

We talk about the twins, about Charlie, and finally I blurt, “I have a question for you.”

“Yep, what is it?”

“You talked to Bronwyn quite a bit at Charlie’s party. What did you think of her?”

Katie butters a piece of bread. “I’ll be honest with you.”

“I expect nothing less,” I say.

“She was nothing like what you described.”

“Oh?”

“Actually, I thought she was really nice.”

I chuckle. “Oh right, well, there you go. Join the Bronwyn appreciation club. I understand it’s a bit of a lovefest. What did you talk about? Did she say anything about me?”

“We talked about Roman art, actually.”

It’s the secondactuallyshe’s said so far, and I have to say, I’m not crazy about it. It makes her sound like she’s jumped over the fence to the other side. I too was in the process of jumping the fence, although more like lifting one leg over it and waiting to see what it felt like.

“She knows a lot about the museums there, it was fascinating,” she continues.

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